


Portrait

by spiritcrimson



Category: Death Note
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Budding Love, Canonical Character Death, Developing Friendships, F/M, Tragedy, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 16:27:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5382146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiritcrimson/pseuds/spiritcrimson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I see you’ve been drawing portraits of everyone here. I want you to draw me, too.”</p><p>Linda looks thoughtful for a moment. Then, “No.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Portrait

**Author's Note:**

> If you guys read my fics, you'll know that these two are a ship in my AU. As it happens, I find this particular dynamic fascinating. We hardly have any canon information on these two, which leaves their characterizations open to interpretation. And who’s to say they weren’t friends back at Wammy’s? 
> 
> Anyway, this was just something I’ve had going on in my head, so I decided to write it down. It’s not exactly shippy, but it’s a look into their relationship; what I think their relationship could have been.
> 
> I hope you can give it a chance.
> 
> P.S These are my personal interpretations of the characters.

The first time Matt hears of the new girl is through the excited whispers of a few girls.

He sits on one corner of the rather large couch, eyes firmly focused on his videogame. His ears, however, do not restrict their hearing to merely the video game sounds, and brilliant as he is, nor does his brain restrict its comprehending capabilities to merely the images on the screen. And so, Matt happens to catch the whispered conversations drifting over to him, understanding every word spoken.

“And she’s so great, she just looked at me once, mind you, and then she said I could leave if I wanted to! I asked her, ‘weren’t you going to draw me?’ and she says, ‘yes,’ and so I walk away from there, right? And half an hour later, she hands me _this_.” This is all said without a pause for breath, the last word punctuated by the sound of rustling. Matt cranes his neck, ever so slightly, to get a glimpse. The girl is waving a sheet of paper in front of the others. Unfortunately, all Matt can see is the back of it, which is plain, but there’s obviously something very impressive on the other side, if the other girls’ widened eyes and whispers of awe are anything to go by.

Matt decides he doesn’t care and focuses his attention, once more, on his game. The whispers, however, increase in volume until they’re no longer whispers and the girls are just being loud.

“Can you girls just hush it? You’re being loud,” Matt snaps, his eyes never once leaving the screen, “It’s distracting.”

One of the girls—Matt doesn’t bother to look to know which one—says, “You should pick another spot to play your stupid video games, Matt. This is a common room, which means, it’s meant for everyone. We’ll talk as loudly as we damn well please.” She then lets out a huff, stomps her foot angrily, and regardless of what she’s just said, starts walking away from there, her friends following quietly after her.

Matt grins and continues playing his video game.

-x-

Her name is Linda.

Not that Matt has spoken to her, of course. He barely speaks to anyone in the Orphanage, and he doesn’t think he’s particularly missing out. He doesn’t have friends, and it is, indeed, for lack of trying. Matt doesn’t try to socialize, because he simply doesn’t care. He has his video games that perfectly entertain him. He doesn’t need to try and interact with the other supposed ‘geniuses’.

He’d tried once, when he’d just entered, but the way everyone seemed to talk was so pretentious, and even if Matt understood exactly what those long and complicated words used meant, he didn’t see _why_ it needed using. He didn’t understand why they couldn’t just talk _normally_. It was frankly annoying, the whole ‘trying-to-flaunt-your-wit’ thing that everyone seemed to have going. Because Matt _didn’t care_. At all.

And so, he’s always stuck to his video games, because those aren’t pretentious, they’re simple and straightforward. Just the way Matt likes it.

So, anyway. On the topic of Linda. No, Matt hasn’t personally spoken to her, to ask for her name. He doesn’t even think he’s seen her. He’s just been hearing her name a lot, no matter where he goes. It’s only been a few days since she’s arrived, and she’s all that everyone can seem to talk about.

In class, as Matt sits in one of the back most benches, he hears, “Linda drew this portrait of me! She’s amazing.”

In the common room, he hears, from one of the boys nearby, “Her name’s Linda, and honestly, she’s something else. I am half tempted to frame the pencil sketch she drew of me, you know?” At this, the other boys laugh, but the boy persists. “No, I’m serious! She’s just…she’s so _talented_.”

Matt rolls his eyes.

-x-

It isn’t until days later, when Matt is, once again, sitting quietly in his corner, playing his video game, that he sees this elusive girl. He only knows it’s her because he sees someone address her directly, and she smiles, says something and then she’s left alone once more.

She sits in the center, on the wooden floorboards, sketch pad perched against her raised knee. There’s no one sitting in front of her, nor does Matt see her lift her eyes up from her sketch pad even once. From his angle, he can barely make out the subject of her portrait. Matt takes a moment to study her. She wears loose grey pants and a light blue t-shirt. Her brown hair is tied messily into a bun. Matt notices the way her hand moves across the paper, the pencil gliding smoothly. She seems to be in full control of her movements. She seems completely engrossed in her work, occasionally using her other hand to push back stray strands that have managed to escape her bun and tickle her nose. She never once looks up from her sketchpad, though. It’s like she’s caught in a trance. Nothing else matters to her. It reminds Matt of himself, when he’s engrossed in a particular video game. He smiles at that.

Matt watches with rapt attention as she gives the final touches on her sketch. She then drops her pencil to her side, tears the page out and gets up. She walks over to the opposite end of the room, towards a figure dressed in all white, silently working on a puzzle. She bends to a crouch, eyes on his level and extends her hand out. Near looks up from his puzzle, at the sheet of paper Linda’s handing out to him. He stares at the drawing with a blank look. Matt watches as Linda shrugs, says something that’s way beyond his hearing range, and places the paper next to Near. She gets up once more and goes back to her original spot.

Matt’s eyes remain on Near. He picks up the paper, stares at it. After a moment, a small smile tugs at his lips.

Matt would be lying if he says his curiosity isn’t peaked now.

-x-

When Mello saunters into the common room one fine afternoon, dropping himself heavily on the couch, Matt’s attention shifts to him. It’s not like Matt can particularly ignore Mello. Wherever Mello goes, it’s like he pulls all attention towards him. And right now, he’s sitting beside Matt, which makes Matt realize that he should say something.

Matt wouldn’t say he and Mello are the best of friends, but Matt thinks it’s sensible to be on Mello’s good side. So whenever he finds Mello to be around, he doesn’t particularly ignore him. That’s as far as his social interaction goes.

“Hey,” Matt greets, and he does Mello the courtesy of actually looking at him.

Mello, for his part, just grunts. He isn’t looking at Matt. Matt takes no offense to that. He does, however, note with some interest the object of Mello’s attention. It’s a sketch of him.

“Honestly, is she drawing everyone in this goddamn place?” Matt mutters, still staring at the sketch.This is the first time he’s gotten a good look at Linda’s work. It’s amazingly detailed, Matt will give her that. The resemblance to Mello is amazing, as well. Matt doubts Mello sat still for over an hour for Linda to draw this, which means she drew it from memory. That’s impressive.

Suddenly, Matt feels left out. She seems to be drawing a portrait of everyone – She drew _Mello_ and _Near_ , for Christ’s sake, the two children everyone seems to particularly avoid—and she hasn’t drawn one for Matt.

Matt realizes that he wants her to draw him, too.

“D’you know where she is?” He asks, still eyeing the portrait.

Mello finally looks at him, shrugs. “I think the last I saw her, she was sitting outside, on one of the benches.”

Matt murmurs a quick ‘thank you’ to Mello and drops his handheld on the couch—he knows it’s perfectly safe, because no one really touches his video games, they think it’s dumb and stupid and Matt couldn’t care less, honestly—and stands up, heading for the main doors.

Matt finds her sitting on one of the benches, eyes closed, basking in the warm glow of the afternoon sun. He walks up to her, shoving his hands into his pockets. When he’s close enough, he says, “Hey.”

Her eyes snap open and she turns slightly, cocking her head to the side in question.

“I see you’ve been drawing portraits of everyone here. I want you to draw me, too.” Tact hasn’t been his greatest suit. For someone who doesn’t particularly bother with social interaction, that can be a hard concept to learn and implement.

Linda looks thoughtful for a moment. Then, “No.”

Matt’s eyebrows furrow. “Excuse me?”

“I said no.”

Matt looks annoyed now. “Why not? You’re drawing everyone!”

Linda shrugs. “I draw my friends. I don’t even know you. We’ve never even talked before.”

Matt’s jaw drops open. He points an accusing finger at her. “You drew Mello and Near! They’re not your friends. Even they’ve never spoken to you!”

“Well, I like them.” Linda says.

“And I’m not likable?”

“You ignore everyone. I’ve seen you around so many times, you do not speak to anyone.”

“Nor does Near.”

“Near doesn’t know how. He’s perfectly polite and responds when spoken to, though.” Linda says.

“I do that, too!” Matt argues.

Linda laughs at that. “No, you don’t. Even if you do, it’s usually to tell people to shut up. That’s hardly polite.”

“What about Mello? He’s not the nicest bloke out there!” Matt asks. He then narrows his eyes. “Unless you have some weird crush on him.”

Linda neither confirms nor denies it. “He has pretty features.” She says instead.

Matt purses his lips. He remains silent for a long moment.

“Be my friend, and I’ll draw you,” Linda adds, a slight smile on her face.

Matt looks thoughtful. Then he nods. He brings his hand out and says, “I’m Matt.”

Linda’s smile widens as she grasps his hand. “Linda.”

-x-

They form a tentative friendship.

It starts with Matt greeting her politely whenever she’s around.

It then progresses to him taking the seat next to hers in class. They don’t talk all too often, Matt still remains busy with his video game, while Linda does random doodles in her notebook. Still, it’s nice.

It then moves to Matt sitting next to Linda in the common room, on the floor, instead of his couch. Sometimes, he’ll keep his handheld aside, and she’ll keep her sketchpad aside, and they’ll talk. Linda asks Matt about his interests (“Honestly, if I could marry video games, I would!”) and Matt asks Linda what she likes to do when she’s not drawing (“I like observing people, there’s always so much to learn and understand.”)

Over time, as their tentative friendship grows into something steadier, they dare go into one another’s tragic back stories. Linda almost chokes on tears when Matt asks her about her family, and when she wipes her eyes and sheepishly apologizes, she asks Matt the same. Matt never answers her, he always changes the topic and she lets him.

One of such days, they’re sitting on the floor, Linda casually sketching something (Matt’s still annoyed that she isn’t drawing him, but he won’t push it, and besides, he quite likes talking to her) and Matt’s handheld lies on his lap. He’s turned it off.

“So, you’re telling me, you can just look at something for a few seconds and remember every single detail?” Matt asks, eyes wide in disbelief.

Linda nods. “I think it’s called Photographic memory. I was told I’m special, and that it’s a valuable asset.”

Matt stares in awe. “No kidding!” He exclaims.

Linda looks up from what she’s doing to stare at Matt. Then, she grins. “Yeah, it’s actually pretty cool.”

“You’d ace your tests then! You could quite easily beat Mello and Near!” Matt says enthusiastically. “You can be the top successor to L.”

Linda frowns. “Honestly? I don’t want to be L. I just want to draw. It makes me happy.”

Matt could hug her. He honestly could. Instead, he settles for, “I’m so glad we’ve become friends, then.”

Linda raises her eyebrow in question.

“I don’t want to be L, either. I just want to play video games.”

-x-

Days stretch into weeks, and weeks stretch into months.

And eventually, months stretch into years.

Matt forgets the reason he’d even befriended Linda in the first place. He’s not sure it matters anymore. Matt likes being her friend. She’s funny, she’s interesting, and when she talks, she talks normally. Matt appreciates that about her.

Linda likes Matt. She likes him a lot. She’s not sure in what way, just that she does. She hasn’t forgotten the reason he befriended her, of course. It’s still in the back of her mind. She just feels that if she draws Matt, he’ll get what he wants, and then he’ll not want to talk to her anymore. She knows the thought is irrational. No one would go to such lengths, to keep up a friendship for _years_ , just to have their portrait done, especially not someone like Matt.

Matt doesn’t like people, usually. He doesn’t like talking to a majority of the people in Wammy’s House. He talks to Linda. That has to mean something.

Linda just wishes she knew what it exactly means.

-x-

Linda leaves for Art school. It’s always been her dream, and she’s going to fulfill it.

Everyone supports her decision, encourages her, hopes for her to succeed.

Before she leaves, she visits Matt. He’s in his room, lying down on his bed. His eyes snap open and he sits up abruptly when she enters.

“Hey,” She says. Her bags are in the doorway, a single sheet of paper clutched in her hand. She takes a step forward.

“You’re leaving?” Matt asks. There’s a peculiar expression on his face, one that Linda can’t seem to place, or doesn’t want to.

“Yeah, the cab’s waiting outside.” Linda says. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably.

“Well, good luck.” Matt says.

Linda stays silent. She expects him to say more. He doesn’t.

Linda turns around to leave, thinking this to be a stupid idea, because obviously she had been wrong, and he doesn’t feel the same and she’s just so goddamn stupid. Something stops her, however, and she turns back around to face Matt. He’s still looking at her, that same expression in place.

“What are you planning to do, Matt?”

Matt shrugs. “Dunno, really. It’s not like I have any set goal in life, not like you. I’ll just go with the flow, I guess. I’ll do something that gives me a thrill, you know, that adrenaline rush?”

Linda chuckles. “Good luck finding that. The real world is dull and boring, you know. Don’t let videogames delude you into thinking real life is just as thrilling.”

“I’m sure I’ll find something,”

“Bye, Matt.” She leaves the room, door shutting gently behind her. She doesn’t hand him the sheet of paper.

-x-

When Roger informs her of Matt’s death, and consequently, his funeral arrangements, Linda’s heart breaks.

She swallows her sorrow, however, when Roger asks her if she’ll speak a few words for him. “You two were friends, weren’t you?”

“Yes, we were.”

“So, will you?”

“Yes.”

And Linda does speak. It’s heartfelt and touching and when it’s all said and done, Linda heads back to her apartment, digs around in her shelf, through stacks and stacks of papers, until she finds what she’s looking for.

She settles down on her bed, legs crossed beneath her, and stares at it.

Matt’s face smiles back at her. She closes her eyes, committing the face to memory.

Not like she has to. His face is already etched into her memory. It’s not a face she can forget.

Slowly, she lifts the paper, stares at it one last time, and then she tears it to pieces.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. It means a lot, and feedback is appreciated :)


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